


Stitch Me Up

by DeathBelle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining!Tendou, Scars, Self-Harm, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 19:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10623795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: When Semi finds out that his status as the official Shiratorizawa Setter has been stolen away, he doesn’t react well. Tendou doesn’t realize the extent of that bad reaction until he walks in on Semi in the locker room and discovers his brutal coping mechanism.Semi is breaking down, and Tendou is willing to do whatever it takes to put him back together.Somehow, “Whatever it takes” turns into extra serving practice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one got to me emotionally, you guys. 
> 
> I love Semi Eita. I don't know why I feel the need to make him suffer.

Semi Eita was typically a calm, collected individual. It was part of what made him a good setter, along with his high level of perception and his willingness to set risky tosses. In fact, Tendou had rarely ever seen Semi unsettled by anything.

There had been one occasion, during their second year, that Semi and Tendou had been walking across campus toward the gymnasium for morning practice. They were both dragging their feet, Semi a little more so than Tendou, who had sneaked half a cup of coffee before leaving his room even though their coach had forbidden them from partaking in the thrill of caffeinated beverages. 

They had been talking about volleyball, of course; probably about the upcoming training camp, or about the looming preliminaries. Tendou couldn’t quite recall the conversation. What he did recall, in extreme detail, was the car that swerved off of the small, narrow road and came straight toward them. 

Tendou, who had always been blessed with quick reflexes, jumped out of the way, and assumed that Semi would do the same.

Semi, however, seemed to be frozen in place, clutching the strap of his gym bag until his knuckles turned white. 

The driver of the car got the vehicle under control and steered it back onto the road, so there was no lasting damage, but Tendou never forgot what Semi’s face looked like during that instant when the car was coming toward him.

His face had been blank, like all expression had been scrubbed away. He’d been a little too pale, his mouth was slightly open, and his eyes were wide and hollow. It was a little frightening to see, when Tendou was used to smug smirks and eye rolls and raised brows. 

Semi had snapped out of it quickly and shaken it off without a problem. They’d walked to the gym without further incident, and by the time they arrived Tendou was telling the rest of the team how they’d nearly died in a fiery explosion. Semi had rolled his eyes and started warming up without comment.

It wasn’t until their third year, during a practice match with a local university, that Tendou saw Semi lose his composure again.

His reaction was the same; eyes wide, mouth open, skin paling. The reason for the reaction, however, was entirely different.

“Kenjirou,” said Coach Washijou, the sharpness of his voice snapping Shirabu to attention. “You’re the starting setter this time.”

They were in their pre-game huddle, the first set of the match only a moment away. 

“Yes, coach,” said Shirabu, standing a little taller. He managed to look somewhat smug, though his face hadn’t changed.

Tendou looked from him to Semi, across the huddle. Semi’s face had gone slack, startled eyes stuck to the coach with shell shocked disbelief. 

He looked just the same as he had in that fleeting second when the car had been coming toward him, like a deer pinned in place by twin headlights.

Everyone else looked at him, too, but Semi didn’t seem to notice. His attention was reserved only for the coach, who didn’t even look in his direction as he waved the players away to take their places on the court. 

Tendou wanted to say something. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, but something would be better than nothing. But everyone was in a rush of motion, taking their places, and he had no choice but to follow along, tossing a last glance over his shoulder for Semi.

Semi finally blinked himself out of his stupor and followed the other reserve players off to the side. He walked like he was in a daze, as if he wasn’t fully aware of what was happening around him. His eyes were a little distant, like he was trapped in his own head, and then Tendou had to tear his eyes away and focus on the game.

They won, and no one was surprised. 

Tendou waited the entire game for Shirabu to mess up – not out of malice, but in consideration of Semi. But Shirabu performed well, Ushijima spiked all of his tosses without complaint, and the team fell into an easy rhythm around the second-year setter.

When the game ended, some of the other players stayed to talk with them, congratulating them on the win. Shirabu accepted their praise gracefully, and with minimum conversation.

Tendou slipped away before he could get caught up in the chatter. He knew he needed to do his cool-down stretches, but figured it wouldn’t kill him to wait. He ducked out of the gymnasium and into the narrow hallway that led to the locker rooms, through which he’d seen Semi disappear as soon as the final point had been scored. 

The sound of distant conversation was the only sound as Tendou eased open the locker room door and stepped inside. From further within, there was a metallic _bang_ as something was flung into a locker. Tendou followed the sound and peeked around the wall to find Semi throwing his second volleyball shoe into his locker with a matching _clang_. Semi slapped his bag down on a bench and collapsed beside it, hunching over to pull on his casual sneakers.

The blank look was gone. In its place were sharp brows, burning eyes, and a frown that sliced across his face.

Tendou didn’t know which face he preferred. Both were terrifying.

“Hey, Semi-Semi,” he said, affecting his usual tone despite the discomfort roiling around in his gut. “You alright?”

Semi glared up at him, the heat in his eyes scalding. “I’m fine,” he spat. He yanked his shoestrings too tightly, jaw ticking. 

Tendou wandered closer and leaned against the row of lockers. “It was just a practice match,” he said, still trying to sound bright. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it was just a practice match,” agreed Semi. He pulled the strings into an angry knot and stood. “Which means if coach thinks Shirabu is good enough for a practice match, then he’s good enough for a real game.”

“You don’t know that,” said Tendou, though he sounded unconvincing to his own ears. “Maybe it was a one-time thing, just so he could get a feel for how Shirabu’s going to do next year after you graduate.” 

“Shut up,” said Semi. “We both know that’s not true.”

“But Semi, I-”

The solid slam of Semi’s locker door cut him off. Tendou winced; he felt the impact buzz along his shoulders. 

“I’m leaving,” said Semi. “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

“Wait,” said Tendou. Semi hadn’t even changed out of his practice jersey. “Aren’t you going to shower before you go?”

Semi glared back at him, and his eyes were an inferno of anger, but somewhere beneath that, there was something darker and colder. “Why? It’s not like I worked up a sweat standing on the sidelines.” 

He hefted his bag over his shoulder and stormed out of the locker room. He slung the door behind him and Tendou flinched as it slammed shut.

Tendou stood there for too long, wondering if he should go after Semi, even when it was too late to follow. He understood why Semi was upset. It wasn’t easy to be replaced by an underclassman, especially when this was their last year playing for Shiratorizawa. It wasn’t even as if Semi had done anything wrong to deserve the switch. He was a great setter. His skills had gotten him into Shiratorizawa and had secured him a spot as a starting player at the beginning of their second year. 

He was excellent, but Tendou wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t know why the coach had made his decision. Semi played like he had something to prove, and perhaps he did. He threw tough tosses, made risky decisions, and tried to lead the team to victory.

Shirabu, while maybe a touch less talented, was more consistent. If Ushijima was in a position to hit a spike, Shirabu sent him a toss. He didn’t do anything out of the ordinary or try to draw attention to himself. He blended into the rest of the team seamlessly.

Tendou had no problems with Shirabu, but he would always prefer Semi.

He eventually returned to the court to stretch, and if anyone else noticed that Semi had disappeared too early, they didn’t mention it.

  
  
  
  
Tendou had expected Semi to bounce back fairly quickly. Semi was resilient, and Tendou had never seen him worry over anything for more than a day or two.

But a day or two bled into a week, and Semi was still so visibly angry that Tendou was beginning to get a little concerned.

The third-year players always sat in the same seats at the same table in the cafeteria for lunch. Tendou collected his food and dropped into his usual spot across from Ushijima. Reon was beside him, picking through his tray quietly. Yamagata was a little further down, eyes half-closed as if he was about to fall asleep over his food. 

Tendou scuffed his feet against the floor and made a snide comment about the spread of vegetables on Ushijima’s plate. Ushijima responded with his usual matter-of-fact attitude and continued eating.

Then Semi arrived to take his usual spot. He slapped his tray so hard against the table that Tendou nearly jumped out of his chair. Semi slumped into his seat and started picking at his food, ignoring Yamagata’s suddenly wide-awake stare. 

Tendou and Reon exchanged a look, and Ushijima kept eating as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, uh, Semi-Semi?” said Tendou, leaning toward him. “You doing okay there?”

“Yes,” said Semi. It sounded like the word was forced through gritted teeth. He stabbed at a dumpling so hard that Tendou was surprised his chopsticks didn’t snap in half.

“You sure?” said Tendou. “You seem a little… _tense_.”

Semi cut his gaze to the side. “I said I’m fine. Stop asking.”

Tendou started to say something else, but caught motion from the corner of his eye. Reon shook his head, advising Tendou to stop pushing. Reluctantly Tendou did so, returning to his own meal with much less enthusiasm than usual. He sent frequent glances to the side, where Semi’s scowl remained heavy.

Still, he wanted to say something. Semi was one of his best friends, after all. Tendou appreciated his friends more than the average high school student because he knew what it was like to be without them. Despite his wishes, he didn’t know what exactly to say, and was afraid he would only make things worse.

So he kept his mouth shut and hoped the problem would just go away.

  
  
  
  
It didn’t go away, but after a couple of weeks, Semi’s anger did fizzle out. At first Tendou thought that was a good thing. Maybe Semi was coming to terms with the fact that Shirabu had replaced him in the last three practice matches they’d had over the past few weeks. Maybe he would accept it and move on and bounce back to the somewhat sarcastic but still enjoyable Semi that Tendou had become friends with.

It didn’t quite happen that way. The anger drained away, but it was replaced by a black bitterness that bled from Semi’s pores like a toxin.

Semi still performed well during practices, because he probably didn’t know how to do badly at anything. He paired up with some of the other spikers, because now Ushijima and Shirabu had become a matched set and the coach insisted that they constantly practice together.

Even without the privilege of setting for the ace, Semi was still a valuable member of the team. He spent a lot of practice time working with Goshiki and the other first years, who would be vital for Shiratorizawa’s reputation as champions the following year. Under his direction they became much better at spiking and receiving, and Goshiki was getting a better handle on his strong-but-inaccurate serves. 

Semi was still contributing to the team, but he didn’t seem to think so. 

“Good practice today, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou as they collected the stray volleyballs from the edges of the gym at the end of practice. “Those quicks you set for Tsutomu were perfect.”

Semi barely glanced at him. “Whatever,” he said, bending to grab another ball. “It’s not like he’s picky. Tsutomu will hit anything that comes in his direction.”

“He’ll try,” said Tendou, “but that doesn’t mean he can hit it. He needs a good toss, like yours.”

Semi mumbled something that was too low for Tendou to hear clearly, but it sounded suspiciously like “ _Or Shirabu’s_.”

Tendou decided to let it go. “Hey, do you want to study together after practice? You have a history exam coming up too, right?”

“Yeah,” said Semi. He tucked the ball beneath his arm and stepped away to retrieve another one. “But I’ll pass.”

Tendou frowned at his back, head tilted to one side. He and Semi used to study together quite a bit. They made similar grades and tended to be good at whatever the other one was bad at. It was a good balance, yet Semi had turned down every offer of a study session that Tendou had give in the past three weeks.

“Are you sure?” said Tendou. “If you keep shooting me down I’m going to start thinking you don’t want to be friends anymore, Semi-Semi.”

He tried to make it sound like a joke, but the words still twisted like a knife between his ribs.

Semi abandoned the ball he was reaching for and turned, finally looking at him properly. He looked a little startled, but quickly blinked his detached mask back into place. “I just have other stuff to do,” he said with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s not that. We’re friends, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Semi-Semi.”

Semi’s scowl sank deeper than usual. “Tomorrow, maybe. After practice. If you want.”

Tendou grinned, and he didn’t even have to force it. “Okay, then. Tomorrow.”

They finished picking up, and Tendou went to the locker room to shower. Semi didn’t immediately follow. He dragged his feet in the storage closet, straightening and reorganizing things that were better left unbothered. He tended to do that more often lately, and usually ended up as the last one to leave the gym. Tendou wondered if he had developed some sort of obsessive compulsive disorder.

Tendou cleaned up, went back to his dorm, and watched several anime reruns instead of doing his homework. He could just catch up tomorrow, when he and Semi met up to study together. It would be easier to get something done with someone else there to motivate him. 

Studying with Ushijima would have been more productive, but Semi was Tendou’s favorite study partner. Semi didn’t mind taking breaks for snacks or unrelated conversations. He was usually just as eager as Tendou was to find an excuse to stop for a few minutes.

Aside from all that, Tendou just enjoyed Semi’s company. He was reserved, but still confident. He took Tendou’s teasing in stride, and occasionally dished it back with a bite of sarcasm. Every now and then he would even laugh at a particularly bad joke that Tendou made, and Semi’s laugh was Tendou’s favorite.

He hadn’t heard it in a long time, though. Not since the Shirabu incident. 

Tendou wondered if Semi was starting to get over it, and how long it would take him to be back to normal.

It had been almost a month. Surely it would be soon. Surely Semi, who had remained largely unruffled by anything during the time that Tendou had known him, would recover from this soon. 

Tendou didn’t understand that it wasn’t that easy.

  
  
  
  
After practice the next day, Tendou helped Reon put away the net and then bounded to the locker room for a quick shower, more eager about his study session with Semi than he’d ever been about studying in his entire life. He knew it wasn’t the studying that he was looking forward to. Semi had seemed in a slightly better mood that day. He’d even almost smiled when Shirabu had fumbled a toss and nearly tripped Kawanishi in his attempt to recover it. 

Maybe Semi was getting over it, after all.

Tendou haphazardly threw his clothes on when he was relatively dry and pulled up his hood instead of fixing his hair. The wet strands stuck to his forehead and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. The rest of the team was gathered in the locker room, amidst idle chatter and laughter and the occasional smack of a wet towel flipped against an unsuspecting ass. Everyone had showered and was gradually redressing and drifting toward the door.

Semi was nowhere among them, and Tendou had a fairly good guess of where to find him.

He trekked back into the gym and peeked in the storage room, where Semi was, predictably, straightening one of the shelves.

“Semi-Semi,” called Tendou, singsong. “I’m getting dumber with each second that passes. Hurry up, let’s go study before my brain shuts down and I forget how to speak!”

Semi rolled his eyes. “That wouldn’t be so disappointing,” he said. Regardless, he wiped his hands off on his shorts and ducked back out into the gym. “Give me a few minutes to shower. I’ll meet you back at your dorm, okay?”

“I’ll wait with you.”

“No,” said Semi, a little more sharply than necessary. “I said I’ll meet you. Just go ahead.”

Tendou blinked at him, confused, but agreed with a shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

Semi went off to the locker room and Tendou left the gym, his bag slung over his shoulder and his face tilted skyward. They’d finished practice fairly early. Coach Washijou had been satisfied with their performance and hadn’t insisted that they stay late to run drills, as he did at the end of about seventy-five percent of their practices. 

It was only seven o’clock. The sun still peered over the horizon, the eastern sky just beginning to fade into hazy indigo. The weather was still relatively warm. Only the hint of a chill spiked the air, flitting beneath the edges of Tendou’s hood to pull at his wet hair. He tugged it closer over his forehead and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring out across campus, feet still planted on the sidewalk outside the gym.

The dorms were on the other side of campus. It was only a five minute walk from the gym, but that was five minutes that he and Semi could spend discussing the nice weather or their classes or Goshiki’s overexcitement when he’d gotten a spike past the blocking combo of Kawanishi and Tendou earlier that day. (If Tendou had moved his hand at the last second to make sure the spike went through, well, no one had to know.)

Instead of hiking across campus on his own, Tendou turned back and reentered the gym. The rest of his teammates had already filtered out, eager to take advantage of the early evening. It was the responsibility of the last member left to lock the gym doors, and that duty had largely fallen on Semi in recent weeks. 

He was the only one remaining when Tendou slipped back into the locker room, and Tendou rounded the corner to the sight of Semi, freshly showered, standing in only his underwear. He dug through his bag in pursuit of his clothes, tongue caught between his lips as he searched.

Tendou thought about sneaking up to scare him, but decided Semi had suffered enough lately. 

He opened his mouth to call out a greeting, or make a comment about Semi’s slowness, or say _something_.

But the words dried up on his tongue when his eyes dipped down, past the leg of Semi’s underwear, and settled on Semi’s toned thighs.

He’d seen Semi naked before. He’d seen the entire team naked at some point; it was no big deal. There was no room for modesty when a group of high school boys shared a locker room.

He’d seen Semi naked before, not all that long ago, but the last time his legs had been smooth and firm and fit enough to make Tendou look away before he let himself stare too long.

Last time there hadn’t been crisscrossing marks striping the flesh of his thighs, bright against the pale skin.

Semi found his shorts in his bag and stepped into them, but he hadn’t pulled them over his knees yet when Tendou found his voice.

“Semi?” 

The name scraped from Tendou’s lips quietly, a drastic change from his normal tone.

Semi’s head whipped up, eyes wide, fingers clutching the band of his shorts around the middle of his thighs.

For a fleeting second he had that look, the one Tendou hated, like he was about to get hit by that car all over again. 

Then he yanked his shorts up and almost stumbled over himself as he spun to face Tendou.

“What are you doing?” snapped Semi, the question loud and sharp. “I told you to go!”

“I wanted to walk with you,” said Tendou. The words rang hollowly in his ears. “I was going to… Semi, what happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your… your legs,” said Tendou. He glanced down again, but Semi’s shorts fell to mid-thigh, covering the marks. “What happened to your legs?”

“Nothing,” said Semi. The word was edged with defensiveness, so sharp that it cut through the air between them. “Nothing happened.” He dug into his bag, grabbed the first shirt he found, and yanked it over his head without looking at Tendou.

“Semi, you-”

“I said _nothing_ ,” Semi hissed. He fished out a pair of socks and plopped down on the bench to pull them on. 

It took him a couple of tries. It looked like his hands were shaking.

He put his shoes on next and Tendou remained frozen in place, following Semi’s movements, the cold static of shock gripping his spine.

Tendou wasn’t stupid. He knew what the marks looked like. 

But he must have been wrong, because this was Semi. Semi wouldn’t do something like that.

Semi stood, zipped his bag up with too much force, and hefted it over his shoulder. He stepped past Tendou toward the door. “Let’s go, then. I’m behind in history. I need to copy your notes.”

The easiest thing for Tendou to do would be to forget that he’d even seen anything. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe it was his imagination, or a trick of the light, or literally any other reason that would explain away the crisscrossing red lines that were now etched onto his retinas. He could just leave with Semi, have their study session, and pretend nothing had happened.

That would be the easiest thing to do.

As Semi passed, Tendou reached out and seized his wrist, yanking him to a stop.

Semi glared at him, but it lacked intensity. There was something else lurking behind his eyes, something that tasted of fear.

“Eita,” said Tendou, the name ringing between them. “What happened?”

Semi tried to pull away. Tendou tightened the grip of his long fingers and held him steady. “I said nothing. Let go.”

“Not until you tell me.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Semi. He tried to say it casually, but his pull against Tendou’s hand became a little more desperate. Tendou still didn’t give.

“Look at me. Don’t I look serious?”

Semi glanced up at him and immediately looked away. “It’s nothing, Tendou. My parents have a cat. It scratched me up when I was home last weekend. It’s not a big deal.”

It was a flimsy excuse. Tendou knew it, and he was pretty sure that Semi knew, too.

“Let me see.”

Semi stopped struggling, wide eyes flitting up to Tendou. “What?”

“Let me see,” repeated Tendou. “The cat scratches. Let me see.”

Semi had already been pale, but now the remaining color drained out of his face. A chalky pallor settled in its place. Even his lips looked pale. He shook his head, slowly, as if the air was too thick to move fast. “Tendou, stop. I said it’s not a big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal then let me see.”

Semi tried to pull his arm back again, the attempt half-hearted. Tendou held on.

Semi’s bag slid off of his shoulder and thumped to the floor. Neither of them acknowledged it.

“Tendou,” said Semi, too quiet. “Please don’t do this.”

He was looking somewhere around the height of Tendou’s shoulder. He’d given up on eye contact.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t make me do this,” said Semi. His voice was steady, but it sounded broken, too. 

Tendou tugged at Semi’s wrist lightly, trying to make him look up. “If something’s going on you can tell me. We’re friends.”

Semi swallowed. He pulled back again, and this time Tendou let him go. 

Semi held his wrist as if in pain, although Tendou knew he hadn’t gripped tightly enough to hurt him. Semi kept his head down, eyes falling to the floor somewhere between them. 

“It’s nothing, Tendou. Really. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is it…” The question drifted away, the words sticking to Tendou’s tongue. He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to _know_. “Are you… are you hurting yourself?”

Finally, Semi’s face changed. Color flooded his cheeks, painting scarlet stripes across high cheekbones. His brows dipped down, mouth catching on one side. He started to turn away but Tendou dropped his hands on Semi’s shoulders, holding him in a light grip. 

“Semi?” said Tendou, trying to keep the waver out of his voice. “ _Eita_. You can talk to me. Please talk to me.”

Semi’s shoulders shivered beneath Tendou’s palms. Semi dropped his hands and gripped the edges of his shorts, pulling them down, as if trying to hide something that was already concealed. “I don’t want to.” His voice was so tight that it was in danger of snapping. 

“Eita.” Tendou released his shoulders and moved his hands instead to Semi’s jaw. He cradled his face, pressed his thumbs lightly against his cheekbones, and coaxed his head up. “Look at me.”

Semi’s eyes met his, a quick flash of dark vulnerability, before he averted his gaze. “Tendou, please stop.”

“I will,” said Tendou, “when you talk to me. What’s going on, Eita?”

Semi shook his head, displacing Tendou’s hands. “I can’t.” It seemed he was going to say more, but his voice broke. He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking beneath the skin, and tried again. “I… yeah, I’ve been… yeah. It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s really not. Just forget about it.”

It’s not a big deal.

_It’s not a big deal_.

Semi still gripped the sides of his shorts, so tightly that his hands shook. Tendou pried them away and kept Semi’s hands in his, so he wouldn’t grab them again. “Of course it’s a big deal,” he said. “If you’re hurting it’s a big deal, Eita.”

A strangled sob squeezed out of Semi’s throat.

He turned away so fast that Tendou didn’t have time to stop him, but he didn’t go far. He took a few steps and slumped against the row of lockers, palms pressed over his eyes, teeth clenched together. 

“I can’t,” he said again, the words choked. His hands slid up and he gripped his hair, pulling so hard that Tendou feared he would rip it out. Semi pressed his back against the lockers and slid to the floor, knees pulled to his chest, curling in on himself. “I _can’t_.”

Tendou dropped his gym bag and didn’t even hear it fall. He knelt on the dirty locker room floor in front of Semi, his hands hovering in the air between them, wanting to reach out but afraid to do so. 

Semi’s shoulders shook with silent sobs, fingers still so tight in his hair that it caused Tendou vicarious pain. Semi pulled his knees in more tightly and his shorts rode up, revealing more of the pale legs beneath. It wasn’t far enough to show the worst of the damage, but Tendou saw a few scabbed lines peeking from underneath. 

This was why Semi stayed so late after practice; to avoid showering and dressing with the rest of the team.

This was why Semi had been so distant for the past few weeks, preferring to spend time on his own rather than with his friends.

Tendou should have known something was wrong. He was Semi’s friend and he’d just stood back and let this happen.

He should have _known_.

His own throat tightened, but Tendou swallowed down his emotions. He would have time for those later, after he’d put Semi back together. Tendou wasn’t important right now. He would never consider himself more important than Semi Eita.

“It’s okay,” said Tendou, even though it wasn’t. He tried again. “It’s going to be okay.” That was a little better. 

Semi made a choking sound.

Tendou’s hands finally found a perch on Semi’s knees. He gripped them lightly, Semi’s skin warm beneath his palms. “You need to talk to me, Semi-Semi. I can’t do anything if you don’t talk to me.”

“There’s nothing for you to do,” said Semi. The words were so choked that Tendou barely deciphered them. “I’m fucked up, Tendou.”

He sobbed again, rough and wet and desperate.

“No, you’re not,” said Tendou. He reached for Semi’s hands and gently peeled them away from his hair. A few pale strands came with them. “Look at me.”

Semi just shook his head. His eyes were squeezed shut, but tears glistened at the edges of his lashes. He sucked in a breath and it sounded like it hurt. He curled in on himself a little more, and his shorts rode up again.

This time Tendou got a good look at what was underneath.

The frail lines he’d gotten a glimpse of were drawn into larger, sharper cuts. Some of them had healed and were pale pink against the skin. Most were scabbed over, and a couple were fresh, the skin around them still an angry red. Some were parallel, others crisscrossed; some were superficial and others were jagged. It was a mess, a painful, ugly mess, and Tendou suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Eita,” he said, pushing the whisper from between numb lips. “Why did you do this to yourself?”

Semi took a shuddering breath and started sobbing in earnest, the strength of it shaking his entire body. He wrapped his arms around his knees and hid his face, curled into a helpless ball in the locker room floor.

It took Tendou a moment to react. The shock was still vivid beneath his skin, burning like acid. Slowly he moved closer, sitting beside Semi with his back against the lockers. He didn’t know if touching Semi would help or hurt, but he couldn’t do _nothing_.

He reached out and wrapped himself around Semi, pulling him close. 

For a moment Semi didn’t move, resisting the touch. Then he sank into Tendou’s embrace and turned his head, crying into Tendou’s shoulder. Semi’s shoulders were broad, but Tendou’s arms were long, and they fit around him perfectly. 

Tendou held Semi while he cried, resting his cheek on top of Semi’s head, berating himself for not noticing sooner. He could have done something about this. He could have been there for Semi instead of pretending nothing was wrong, instead of hoping it would go away.

He could have been there for his friend instead of standing back and letting this happen. 

Semi was hurting. Obviously he’d been hurting for a while, because someone didn’t just wake up one day and decide to do this to themselves. He’d been suffering and keeping it to himself and Tendou, one of his self-declared best friends, had done nothing. 

He would do something now. It wouldn’t erase what had happened, and he still had a feeling he was never going to forgive himself for this, but he would help Semi now. He would do anything. 

“I’ve got you, Semi-Semi,” he said, whispering the words into Semi’s hair. A few strands stuck to his lips. Semi smelled fresh, like citrus shampoo.

Semi shook his head. One of his hands had curled into a death grip in the front of Tendou’s shirt. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words pushed between sobs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Tendou. He felt a burn at the backs of his eyes and he squeezed them closed, willing it away. He didn’t have the luxury of crying right now. He didn’t deserve to when Semi needed him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Semi muffled a sob into his shoulder. “Don’t.” 

Tendou didn’t know exactly what he meant, but he stopped talking anyway.

Semi had to catch his breath before he spoke again. “I’m sorry because… because you have to see me like this. You shouldn’t… have to deal with… with this. With _me_.”

Tendou pulled him even closer. “Don’t say that. I’d do anything for you, Semi-Semi.”

Semi made another choking sound. His tears had left a wet patch on Tendou’s shirt. “Shut up. I don’t… I don’t deserve that. I’m not worth that, I’m not worth _anything_ anymore.”

Tendou pulled away, his mind buzzing with white static. He took Semi by the shoulders and forced him to sit up, so Tendou could look at him. 

Semi’s damp hair was plastered to his forehead, the dark peaks flat against his eyebrows. His eyes were red and swollen, smudged with tears. His face was blotchy and his lip trembled and he was still the most amazing thing Tendou had ever seen.

“Eita,” he said, the name breathed on an exhale. “How could you say that?”

Semi looked away. He hugged his arms across his chest, as if trying to hold himself together. “It’s the truth. I’m not even good enough to play with the team anymore. Volleyball is what I wanted to do, and I wanted to play in college and go pro, and now I don’t have _anything_. No team is going to take someone who got replaced by a second-year. I’m worthless, Tendou. I don’t mean anything anymore.”

Tendou couldn’t believe he was hearing words like that out of the mouth of Semi Eita. Tendou could imagine questioning his own self-worth – and had done so frequently throughout his young life – but Semi had always seemed to have it together. He always seemed so strong and confident and self-assured that seeing him this way was just painful.

“You’re good at volleyball,” said Tendou, the words bleeding slowly between his lips. “You know you’re good. You wouldn’t be at Shiratorizawa if you weren’t.”

“But I’m not-”

“But nothing,” said Tendou, cutting him short. “So what if Shirabu’s the official setter now? You know you’re as good as him. You know you’re _better_ than him. That’s the problem. You’re too good and you take risks and coach just wants someone who will always send the ball to Ushijima. He wants someone _safe_. He didn’t replace you because you’re not good. He replaced you because he only wants one member of the team to be _really_ good, and if you stay on the court you’re going to overshadow Ushijima.”

Semi tried to pull away from him. Tendou pressed a hand to the side of his face and coaxed him back around. “And besides,” said Tendou, “even if you sucked at volleyball, that wouldn’t matter. That’s not what makes you worth anything. You’re one of my best friends, Eita. You’d be worth the world to me even if you’d never set foot on a volleyball court. What matters is who you are, not what you do.”

Another broken sob cracked out of Semi’s throat and he buried his face in his knees again. 

Tendou scooted closer and draped an arm over Semi’s shoulders. He waited a while, until Semi stopped crying again. Then he asked, quietly, “Does anyone know about this?”

Semi shook his head, still in the shelter of his curled body.

“Do you think you should… maybe talk to someone about it?” said Tendou carefully. 

“No,” said Semi. The single word was stronger than anything else he’d said. “No one can know about it. You can’t tell them.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The back of Tendou’s neck was drenched from the drip of his freshly washed hair. He pushed his hood back and hoped the air would dry it out a little. He knew his hair was all over the place and he probably looked like a mess, but Semi had never cared that Tendou looked like a walking disaster.

“Why?” asked Tendou. 

The question was vague, but Semi knew exactly what he was asking.

“I don’t know,” said Semi. His voice was hollow, hoarse from sobbing. “I just think about all of this all the time, and sometimes it’s just too much. It’s like… I’d rather hurt than keep thinking about it, you know? If I’m in pain then I can kind of forget. And maybe I deserve…” 

He trailed off, and Tendou was glad. He didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence.

“You can’t keep doing this,” said Tendou. “You know you can’t.”

Semi sniffled and hugged his knees tighter. “I know. I just don’t know what else to do.”

“Anything,” said Tendou. “Anything else. When you get upset and you want to… to _do that_ … call me, and we’ll do something else. We’ll do something together. We can watch movies or play cards or anything you want to do.”

Semi sniffed again. Tendou’s arm was still around him but he didn’t seem to mind.

When it became clear he wouldn’t answer, Tendou said, “If you promise me that, then I won’t tell anyone. But if you keep doing it… I can’t let you do this, Eita. You know I can’t.”

Semi quivered a little. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Promise me, then,” said Tendou. He raked curled fingers through the back of Semi’s hair, gently. “Call me instead. I’ll come to your room, or you can come to mine, or we can go somewhere else. Anytime, I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night.”

Semi raised his head just enough to peek up at Tendou. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you do that?” he said. “Why would you waste your time?”

“It’s not a waste of time. I already told you, I’d do anything for you.”

Semi blinked. One last stray tear drizzled down his face. “But _why_ ?”

“Because I care about you, Semi-Semi. That’s what friends do.” That was true enough. Tendou would have done the same thing for any of his friends, even if he thought of Semi just a little differently than the rest of them. 

Semi scrubbed at his face with the heel of his hand and sat up a little straighter. “Okay.”

“You promise?”

Semi scowled, but the expression was watered down. Tendou appreciated the effort all the same. “Yeah, I promise.”

Tendou disentangled himself and stood. Semi glanced down and realized that the leg of his shorts had pooled up toward his hip. He hurriedly yanked it back down, as if covering the marks would make Tendou forget they were there.

Tendou extended a hand, and after a slight hesitation, Semi took it. His hand was hot in Tendou’s as he was pulled to his feet. Semi was a little unsteady, but Tendou dropped a hand on his shoulder for support. “Alright, Semi-Semi?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Stop calling me that.”

Tendou grinned. It felt brittle, like a light wind could shatter it. “Still want to study?”

Semi sighed and wiped at his face again. “Not really. I need to, though, or I’ll get kicked out of school before I graduate.”

“Well we can’t have that,” said Tendou. “What would I do without you, Semi-Semi?”

“Annoy someone else, probably.”

Tendou’s grin felt a little less frail and a little more real. “Yeah, probably.”

He shrugged his bag back over his shoulder and Semi did the same. They locked the gym doors on their way out and headed toward the dorms. The sky had gotten darker. Dusk had risen to consume half of the sky, leaving only a pale shimmer of light on the horizon. The air was still a little cool and Tendou pulled his hood up again. 

A gust of wind fluttered over them and Semi shivered.

“Where’s your jacket?” said Tendou.

Semi shrugged. “I don’t think I wore one.” He tried to put his hands in his pockets, but his shorts didn’t have any. “It’s a short walk. I’m fine.”

Tendou had stripped off his hoodie almost before Semi had stopped speaking. “Here,” he said, holding it out. “Wear this until we get there.”

Semi stared at it, then raised an eyebrow at Tendou. “Why?”

“Because it’s cold and your hair is wet,” said Tendou.

Semi’s eyes flickered up to Tendou’s hair.

“And because you’re wearing shorts,” added Tendou before Semi could argue. He’d slipped into sweats after his shower, so at least his legs were protected from the cold. “C’mon, Semi-Semi. I don’t have cooties.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you do,” said Semi. Regardless, he took the jacket, draped it over his shoulders, and pulled the hood up over his hair. It was already a little damp, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Semi-Semi! Let’s go, I can’t wait to learn about the Meiji period.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” said Semi. “Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“If you’re going to pass history, then yes.”

Semi groaned.

Tendou grinned, and he could almost pretend that nothing was wrong. 

But it was, and now Semi wasn’t going to deal with it alone.

  
  
  
  
For the next couple of days Tendou only spoke to Semi when they passed by each other between classes, during lunch, and throughout practice. There was no extracurricular communication, and Tendou worried that Semi wasn’t going to hold up his end of the bargain. On Saturday night he spent a few restless hours wondering if Semi was asleep, and if he was okay, and if he’d hurt himself anymore and chosen not to call Tendou after all. 

At two a.m. Tendou grabbed his phone and almost called, because his mind had convinced him that the worst-case scenario was the most logical, but he stopped himself before tapping Semi’s number.

Maybe he was overreacting. Semi had said he would call, and Tendou had to believe that he would. 

Still, there was no other contact until Monday, about half an hour after practice. Tendou had walked back to his dorm already, head swimming with thoughts of Semi. He’d considered saying something, but was afraid that bringing it up would only make things worse. 

So when his phone rang and Semi’s name flickered across the screen, Tendou grabbed at it so fast that he nearly sent it sailing across the room.

“Hello?” he said, pressing the phone against the side of his face.

There was a beat of silence on the other end. Tendou pulled the phone away and glanced at it, to make sure he’d pushed the right button. Then Semi’s voice trickled out, quiet and distant. “Tendou?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” said Tendou, putting it against his ear again. “What’s wrong?”

Semi was quiet again, but this time Tendou closed his eyes and waited.

“Are you back at the dorms already?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I… nevermind, I shouldn’t have called you. I’ll just-”

“ _Wait_ ,” said Tendou, a little too loudly. “Where are you?”

Semi paused, and for a second Tendou feared he would hang up without answering. “I’m still in the gym.” 

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” said Tendou. He was already in motion, grabbing at his jacket by the door and stepping into his shoes. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“It’s fine, Tendou, you don’t have to-”

“ _Don’t go anywhere_.”

Tendou ended the call, rushed out the door, and hoped that Semi would be there when he arrived.

He was tired after a long practice but he ran across the campus anyway, the distance eaten away by long strides. It took him about three minutes to get there and he pushed through the gym doors, sucking in air, looking around wildly for Semi.

He wasn’t hard to find. He sat on the coach’s bench with his elbows propped on his knees, head tilted back to watch Tendou approach. He was still dressed in his practice clothes, hair a little damp with sweat.

“Hey, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou, the teasing of his usual greeting dampened by the shortness of his breath. 

Semi raised a brow at him. “Did you run here?”

“Maybe.”

Semi rolled his eyes and leaned back, hands braced on the back edge of the bench. “You didn’t have to. You didn’t have to come at all, it was kind of stupid to call you anyway.”

Tendou shook his head and dropped down beside Semi. “It’s not stupid. I told you to call me anytime.”

“Yeah, but I figured you were just trying to be nice.”

Tendou tilted his head, blinking at him with wide eyes. “When have I ever just tried to be nice, Semi-Semi? I’m not nice. If I say something it’s because I mean it.”

Semi frowned at the floor between his feet and said nothing.

Tendou leaned close and nudged him with his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“I just…” he stopped, face scrunched a little, as if he was having a hard time putting the words together. “It wasn’t a good practice. I just feel… I don’t know.”

Tendou couldn’t remember anything bad happening at practice. They’d done the same things as usual. He and Kawanishi had practiced blocks against Ushijima, which was usually in vain, but they’d put up a good fight. It was made only more difficult by way Shirabu had learned to angle his tosses just a little higher, giving Ushijima more spiking power, and…

Oh. 

“Shirabu?” said Tendou quietly.

Semi’s mouth twisted, half in disappointment, half in disgust. “He’s getting better. I know that’s good for the team, but…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, and he didn’t have to. It was obvious how Semi felt, and it was obvious why he’d called Tendou.

“Okay then,” said Tendou, trying to sound breezy instead of worried. “What do you want to do?”

Semi gave him a side glance. “You don’t really have to try and entertain me, Tendou. It’s not a big deal.”

It was a big deal, and Tendou could argue all day about how big of a deal it truly was. Instead he said, airily, “What do you want to do, Semi-Semi?”

Semi huffed and sat forward again. “I don’t know. I just need to do _something_. It’s like… I feel like it’s eating away at me, you know? It’s buzzing in my head and it’s under my skin and I need to do _something_.”

Tendou thought about it. He couldn’t come up with many options that required actual motion, which was what he thought Semi needed right now. If they did anything still and quiet Semi would still be thinking, and that was exactly what he needed to stop doing.

“Do you want to practice some more?” suggested Tendou. The gym had already been cleaned up, but it wouldn’t hurt them to do it again. “You can set some tosses for me.”

Semi shook his head.

Tendou tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, still thinking. “Want to practice serves? You’re getting really good at them since you’ve been teaching Tsutomu.”

Semi heaved a sigh. “There’s not really a point, Tendou. It doesn’t matter if I’m good at serving if I’m never going to be on the court.”

“You will be later, though,” said Tendou, “in university.” Semi looked like he was going to argue, and Tendou continued, “And besides, they can argue over who’s the best setter all day long, but no one can say Shirabu’s better at serving than you. He sucks.”

Whatever argument Semi had been planning tapered away. His brows pulled together as he considered that, his jaw twitching as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

“Remember at the beginning of the year when he decided he wanted to learn jump serves?” said Tendou, grinning. “He stepped wrong and fell on his ass and I had to run extra laps because I couldn’t stop laughing.”

A smile twisted Semi’s mouth, and Tendou felt a swell of victory.

“You’d think he would’ve learned to serve just because of how much he watches Ushijima all the time,” said Semi. 

Tendou shrugged. “I guess hero worship isn’t the best learning tool.”

Semi snorted, and pushed himself off of the bench. “Okay, yeah. Let’s practice some serves.”

“Great!” said Tendou, bouncing up and bounding toward the storage closet. “I’ll get the net!”

Considering they’d just finished a grueling two and a half hour practice, Semi put a lot of energy into his serves.

Tendou lingered at the edge of the court. Occasionally he would wander around and gather some stray balls to dump back into the cart, but mostly he just stood by and watched Semi. 

His form was perfect, the strength behind his arm something to be admired. More impressive than that was his focus, the intensity in his dark eyes as he stared down the opposite side of the court and sent the ball crashing across the net. Every few serves he would poke his tongue between his lips, assessing the strength and trajectory of the next, and send it flying with even more power.

It was a sight to behold, and Tendou could have watched him eternally.

“Out!” Tendou called brightly, when the ball slammed a bare centimeter from the line. Out of about forty serves, it was only the eighth one that had landed badly. “Better luck next time, Semi-Semi.”

Semi scowled at him, but there was a soft edge to the expression. “It was close enough. The other team would’ve gone for it anyway.”

“Maybe,” agreed Tendou. “Or maybe not. University teams are better, you know. They would’ve probably called it out.”

“We’re not in university.”

“Not yet. You will be next year, though.”

Semi squeezed a ball between his palms and frowned down at it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Don’t doubt yourself, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou. He tossed another ball into the cart and did a dramatic spin, arms overhead. “You were accepted into the illustrious Shiratorizawa! Your serve packs a hell of a punch and you’re a dashing, daring setter. Your grades could use some improvement because I’m pretty sure you’re going to fail that history exam, but other than that you’re a prize.”

Semi flung the ball at him. He did it without force, and Tendou dodged it easily.

“Shut up,” Semi murmured, though he didn’t sound displeased. He dipped into the cart for another ball. “If I get accepted somewhere on a volleyball scholarship it’ll be a miracle.”

“Then miracles must be more common than I thought,” said Tendou, “because that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

Semi took a step back, setting his stance for another serve. “What about you?”

“I don’t know,” lied Tendou. He already knew he wasn’t going to play after high school. He’d decided a while back, but he didn’t want to tell Semi, who based his self-worth on his skill at volleyball. It would be like a slap in the face. “I’m just going to wait and see what happens, I guess.”

“You know you’ll get in wherever you want,” said Semi. He crouched a little, the ball balanced in his right palm. “You’re an amazing blocker.”

He tossed the ball up, launched himself into the air, and sent it slamming onto the opposite side of the court. It was close to the line, but clearly in-bounds.

“You’re amazing at everything,” murmured Tendou, eyes stuck to Semi as he pushed a handful of sweaty hair away from his forehead.

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Tendou. “It’s getting kind of late. How long do you want to stay?”

Semi sighed. “I guess we should pack up and go. I don’t want to get us in trouble for being out past curfew.”

“Go ahead and shower off, then,” said Tendou. “I’ll start cleaning up.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I’m going to do it anyway. Move along, Semi-Semi.” He fluttered his hands at Semi, shooing him away.

Semi shook his head, but turned and scuffed toward the locker room. “Whatever.”

He sounded slightly annoyed, but Tendou would have sworn he saw a touch of a smile just before Semi had turned away.

Tendou picked up the stray balls with a spring in his step, beyond pleased that Semi had actually called him. Now maybe Semi would understand that he wasn’t a burden, that Tendou really didn’t mind going out of his way to do anything for him. Maybe Semi would start to understand that he was worth more than his position on the team, that he was worth so much more to Tendou.

Twenty minutes later they locked the gym doors and walked toward the dorms. It was dark, their path lit only by the lights dotted around the campus. Not much conversation passed between them, but Tendou didn’t mind. The atmosphere was light and untroubled. 

When they reached the point where they had to branch in different directions, Semi hesitated. He shifted his weight from one side to the other, eyes fixed off to the side. “Hey, Tendou?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Semi-Semi. You’re okay?”

Semi nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

It didn’t sound like a lie. 

“Get some sleep so you’ll be well-rested when you fail that exam tomorrow,” said Tendou brightly. 

Semi groaned, and Tendou laughed.

“Call me if you need me,” said Tendou, more seriously. 

Semi nodded again. “I will. See you later.”

They parted ways, and Tendou wasn’t worried about Semi, at least not for tonight. He felt more comfortable about the future, too. Now he knew that Semi really would call, and Tendou would always be there.

  
  
  
  
It became a habit. They would suffer through practice, help the others clean up the gym, and immediately drag the net back out as soon as the rest of the team left. After the first couple of times Tendou didn’t bother showering with the others. He began lingering around the storage room with Semi, burning time until they were alone in the gym. Then they would set up and practice more together.

Tendou didn’t tell anyone about the extra practice sessions. He felt like it was something that should stay between them, a secret for two. 

Tendou got better at receives, though it hadn’t been his intention. Sometimes he would guard the opposite side of the court and try to pick up Semi’s serves. It wasn’t easy to begin with, but as a few days bled into a couple of weeks, it became much more difficult. Tendou improved a little, but Semi’s serve was on a whole new level. 

Most of the time Tendou didn’t bother trying to receive. He would sit on the side of the court and just watch, because watching Semi was satisfying in itself.

When Semi would hit a particularly good serve he would glance over at Tendou with a sharp, satisfied smile. Tendou would grin back and ignore the stutter of his own heartbeat.

Three weeks passed by like this, and Semi seemed better. He didn’t scowl quite so much and he was more sociable with their other teammates. He put less effort into avoiding Shirabu, although his disdain was clear on the occasions when he had to speak to him. 

Semi wasn’t a happy-go-lucky person by nature. He frowned a lot and spoke sarcastically and had a rough edge that was sometimes difficult to get past. 

Still, Tendou had no trouble telling the difference between Semi’s usual bad attitude and the one that he’d developed after the Shirabu incident, and he was pleased that Semi was gradually getting back to normal.

One night after they’d stayed for a late practice they showered in adjacent stalls, Tendou chattering away while Semi occasionally tossed out a comment in return. Tendou finished first, and was towel-drying his hair when Semi stepped out. 

Tendou tried not to stare, but he couldn’t keep his gaze from straying as Semi pulled his underwear on beneath the towel around his waist, and then tossed the towel aside to step into his shorts.

Tendou’s eyes flickered down to Semi’s thighs, his breath catching as he searched. The lines were still there in the same messy, jumbled pattern, but they had faded. Though they were still stark against pale skin, it was obvious that no recent additions had been made. They were just scars. 

“I know,” said Semi. 

Tendou glanced up to find Semi watching him. 

Semi looked away and yanked his shorts up, hiding the marks. “I hate it. I hate looking at it.” He turned away to dig a shirt out of his bag. 

“You know,” said Tendou, when Semi had dropped onto a bench to pull on his shoes, “they have this stuff at the drug store that’s supposed to make scars fade faster. I can ask my mom to send me some. I used to be really clumsy, so she’ll assume it’s for me.”

Semi’s hands stilled, his shoelaces twisted between his fingers. Without looking up, he said, “You’re still really clumsy.”

“I’m not the one who tripped over his own feet in the cafeteria last week.”

“I didn’t trip over _my_ feet, I tripped over _your_ feet!” Semi scowled up at him, but Tendou had become more familiar with those scowls over the past few weeks. This one wasn’t angry; it was too soft, almost fond.

Tendou just grinned and changed the subject. 

When he got back to his dorm, he called his mom and whined about the scars marking up his knees from a lifetime of falls. She promised to send something in the mail the following week.

  
  
  
  
It was during practice the following Monday that all of their extra practice sessions paid off.

The coach had split them into two teams for a quick practice match. Some of the regulars were mixed among the teams, but he hadn’t even thought about splitting up Shirabu and Ushijima. They were on the same side of the court with Tendou and Yamagata. The rest of their team was a mix of the second-string players, but it didn’t matter. With Ushijima on their side they would win, anyway.

Semi was the setter on the opposite side, and every time the rotation brought them close to one another Tendou whispered low taunts through the net, receiving only a narrow-eyed glare in return.

When a handful of points had been scored by Semi’s team – and a few more than that by Tendou’s team – Semi rotated to the back for his turn to serve. He spun the ball in his hands, tongue poking between his lips as he focused.

“Out-out, Semi-Semi!” Tendou called, hands cupped around his mouth.

Semi didn’t even look up at him. His focus was still on the ball, on the texture beneath his fingers and the weight between his palms. He’d gotten used to Tendou’s taunts during their frequent practices. He probably didn’t even hear him anymore.

Tendou crouched down a little, even though he was on the front line and it was very unlikely that the ball would come anywhere near him. Yamagata was in the center of the back row. He’d be the one to pick it up, then Shirabu would toss it, and Ushijima would slam it across the net. 

That wasn’t quite how it happened.

Semi threw the ball up in a perfect arc, his eyes lifting. His legs tensed just before he jumped, and his form was flawless. Tendou was so intent on watching him that the sound of the ball whizzing over the net caught him by surprise.

The sound of the ball slamming into the court untouched was even more surprising.

He whipped his head around. Yamagata stood with his hands extended uselessly. He stared at the point on the floor, just to the right of him, where the ball had smacked the ground. Then he looked across the net at Semi, who was just as surprised as the rest of them.

“Nice serve, Semi-Senpai!” shouted Goshiki, bouncing in place.

Semi blinked away his surprise and took a few steps back, realigning himself with the edge of the court. He looked at Tendou, who grinned at him through the mesh of the net. 

When he hit the next serve, Yamagata was more prepared. He lunged for the ball and caught it against his outstretched arms. 

But it went spiraling away at a strange angle, bouncing against the floor before Soekawa could recover it.

Tendou had complimented Semi on his serves for a long time, so it wasn’t as if it should be that much of a surprise for Semi to discover that he was, indeed, good at serving. Being told that by Tendou and watching an extremely skilled libero fail to pick up the ball, however, were entirely different.

Semi was shocked, but he didn’t have the frightening deer-in-the-headlights look. It was softened by a slight curve of his mouth, a subtle pride that made Tendou feel warm. 

If Tendou hadn’t been on the opposite team, he would have cheered.

He decided that didn’t matter and cheered anyway.

“Nice one, Semi-Semi!” he called. 

Semi’s eyes flickered to him and he smiled, sharp yet soft. 

He managed to get another point after that, but on the next serve Yamagata completed a receive with a hissed, “ _Finally._ ”

Ushijima slammed the ball over the net, and Semi’s turn to serve was over.

Still, the brightness of his dark eyes lingered throughout the match, and Tendou fumbled the ball a couple of times because it was almost impossible to stop looking at him. 

  
  
  
  
Shiratorizawa was the favorite to win at the inter-high preliminaries. They’d won the previous year, and the one before that, and none of them had any doubt that they would secure another consecutive victory. 

They breezed through the matches easily, not playing more than two sets with any given team. 

Their final match with Aoba Johsai was a little more taxing.

Tendou realized a second too late that the toss was for number 2 instead of for the ace. He tried to get there in time, but his block was short. The ball slammed past his outstretched hands and bounced away.

The shrill of a whistle announced another point for Aoba Johsai, and number 2 turned to high-five number 3. Tendou watched them through narrowed eyes, annoyed by their persistence.

Of course Shiratorizawa was going to win. Seijoh’s effort would just be wasted.

He spared a glance for the score. Shiratorizawa had taken the first set, and they were now ahead at 21 points, Aoba Johsai trailing barely behind with 20. Tendou knew Shiratorizawa would win, but Oikawa’s team was putting up a hell of a fight.

Seijoh’s number 12 served next, and the ball was picked up easily by Kawanishi. Two seconds later Ushijima sent it back over the net, racking their score up to 22. 

“Nice kill, Waka!” chirped Tendou, sliding to the side as their rotation shifted. Ushijima didn’t acknowledge him, but he rarely ever did in real matches.

Directly across the net from Tendou was Seijoh’s number 3. He was the same height as Tendou, but markedly less animated. Tendou leered at him through narrowed eyes, and number 3 stared back, unbothered.

The trill of a whistle distracted Tendou from his taunting. He looked over his shoulder to find the source of the disturbance, and his breath caught when he saw Semi standing at the edge of the court, the number 10 in his raised hand.

Shirabu stepped up and the players were exchanged. Semi went to the back corner of the court, where Shirabu had just rotated into serving position.

The ball was tossed to Semi and he caught it easily. On the surface he looked confident, but Tendou saw the small crease right between his eyebrows.

“Nice serve, Semi-Semi!” he called, his grin threatening to split his face.

Semi met his eyes for a fleeting second before looking back down at the ball. A hint of a smile pulled at his mouth and Tendou’s heart swelled.

Semi had changed a lot since the first day that coach had switched him out for Shirabu. He’d fumed and suffered and fractured, but now that he’d put himself back together he was more brilliant than ever.

Semi spun the ball between his palms. He exhaled and his shoulders dropped a little, the tension bleeding out of them. He tossed up the ball and fell into the stance that Tendou had seen a thousand times before. 

It was going to be a good serve. Tendou had no doubt.

He turned back toward the net, hands hanging at his sides. Beside him, Goshiki laced his fingers behind his head to protect the back of his skull. 

Tendou didn’t bother. Semi hadn’t hit a net ball in weeks.

The ball shot across the court like a bullet. The libero didn’t have time to dive for it. He took a single step toward the ball, but it slammed against the floor before he could even stretch out a hand.

Tendou was more excited about that single serve than he’d been about all of the spikes he’d shut out during the entire tournament.

“No touch ace!” he shouted, just as the whistle blew to signal their point. Tendou whipped around, beaming. 

Semi was smiling too, a small curve of his mouth that was invisible in comparison to Tendou’s wide grin. But Tendou knew Semi, and he recognized his happiness when he saw it. 

“One more, Semi-Semi!” said Tendou. 

Semi looked at him, nodded, and plucked the ball out of the air when it was tossed in his direction.

This time Seijoh’s number 4 lunged for the ball, but it landed just past his reaching fingers. 

They were at match point, and Tendou crowed with excitement and pride.

“That’s my Semi-Semi!” he shouted, his voice mixed amid the other cries of his team. “One more, Eita! Win us this set!”

Semi hit another one. This time Oikawa got the ball up, their libero set it, and number 12 came in for a spike.

But Tendou was there. The ball smacked his arms and bounced back down on Seijoh’s side of the court.

The whistle blew, and the second set went to Shiratorizawa.

They hadn’t won yet – it was the finals, after all, and they’d need to take the next one to secure a victory – but Tendou felt the thrill of triumph all the same.

He felt even lighter when he looked at Semi one more time to find him already looking back, the most pure smile on his face that Tendou had ever seen.

Tendou’s knees almost gave out. 

Semi was beautiful.

  
  
  
  
They won the game. Aoba Johsai was not pleased, and Oikawa was outright furious, especially when he was forced to shake Ushijima’s hand afterward.

Semi had served again near the end of the set and had managed one more service ace before the libero caught his second attempt. It was still gratifying to see Semi on the court again, hyper-focused on the game, seizing the opportunity to show off his abilities. 

The awards ceremony was quick and familiar. Goshiki was the only one among them that hadn’t experienced it before, and if the tears gathered at the edges of his eyes were any indication, he was absolutely thrilled.

They were sent to shower and pack up immediately after the ceremony, and they plodded off to the locker room on weary legs.

It may have been intentional that Tendou and Semi were the last two remaining in the locker room, or it may have been lingering habit from all of the times they’d stayed after practice. Regardless, when Tendou pulled his shirt over his wet hair, Semi was the only other person in the room. 

Semi had dressed before Tendou had caught a glimpse of his legs, but Tendou didn’t need to see. Semi had shown him a week before, with a pointed lack of eye contact and a light flush. The ointment that Tendou’s mother had sent hadn’t made the scars vanish, but it was clearly helping. The marks were gradually sinking into the skin, blending back into Semi’s pale skin tone. 

Maybe they would eventually go away, but it was more likely that a shadow of them would remain. Semi might always carry them as a reminder, as reluctant as he was to think about it.

Tendou didn’t mind them. He hated to see Semi in pain, but the scars themselves didn’t bother him. Tendou had scars too, though his were tucked away in his head where no one could see them. Mostly they stayed together these days, but every now and then one of them would tear open and bleed all over again. That hadn’t happened in a while, though. Not since he’d started spending all of his spare time with Semi. 

He’d thought he’d been helping Semi through a hard time, but it seemed Semi had been helping him, too.

“Good game, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou. He shook his hair out of his face and grinned. “We won because of you.”

Semi rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling a little. “Whatever. We would’ve won anyway.”

“Maybe,” said Tendou. “Maybe not. Those serves were perfect.”

“You scored more points with your blocks than I ever will,” said Semi. “Don’t act like it was a huge deal.” He dropped his bag onto the bench and stood in front of Tendou with his arms folded.

“It _was_ a huge deal,” said Tendou. “You were great, Semi-Semi. Everyone was impressed. You should’ve seen Shirabu’s face when you hit that first no-touch.”

He was making that part up. He hadn’t actually seen Shirabu’s face. He hadn’t seen anything except for Semi. 

Semi’s mouth twitched a little, but he frowned up at Tendou. “I don’t care about Shirabu. His opinion doesn’t matter to me.”

“Good,” said Tendou brightly. “You shouldn’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“I do, though,” said Semi. He glanced away, but forced himself to look back. “I care what you think.”

Tendou was caught a little off-guard by the admission. “Why?”

“Because I care about you,” said Semi. He looked away again and folded his arms tight across his chest. A touch of pink dusted his cheeks.

Tendou blinked down at him in surprise. A strand of hair fell into his eyes and he rubbed it away with the back of his hand.

“You were there for me,” said Semi. “You went out of your way to help me.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

His eyes slid back up to Tendou’s, suddenly sharp. “Yes, it was. It meant a lot to me. Thank you, Satori. Really.”

Tendou’s heart stalled in his chest. “You know,” he said, trying not to sound like his chest was so tight that he could barely breathe, “if you’re not careful I’ll start to think you’re confessing to me or something.”

Semi’s face burned more brightly, but his voice was steady as he said, “I guess I need to be more obvious, then.”

He took a step and suddenly they were close, closer than Tendou ever thought they would be. Semi’s hands were in the front of Tendou’s shirt, curling into loose fists. 

“You’ve done a lot for me, and I… I really care about you,” said Semi. His gaze was somewhere to Tendou’s left. “Do you like me back or not?”

Tendou took Semi’s face between his hands, gently. He’d done it once before, when Semi had been falling apart in the Shiratorizawa locker room. The touch had been a source of comfort then, but now it was only soft intimacy. 

Semi looked up, dark eyes meeting Tendou’s.

“You’re smart, Semi-Semi,” he said. “You know I’ve always liked you.”

Semi’s exhale of relief suggested that he hadn’t.

Tendou leaned forward a little, eyes flickering down to Semi’s lips, but then he stopped. “Umm,” he said, suddenly awkward. “Is it okay if I…?”

“I just confessed to you,” said Semi. The words snapped, but his blush suggested he wasn’t actually angry. “You don’t have to ask.”

Tendou hummed and tried to ignore his own jittering nerves. “I think I still do.”

“Then yes,” said Semi.

Tendou dipped his head and Semi met him halfway, suddenly a little taller, and Tendou thought maybe he was standing on his toes.

Then he didn’t think anything else because Semi’s mouth was touching his. Semi’s lips were dry and a little chapped, but they felt like heaven. Tendou pulled back a few bare centimeters, levering his eyes open to look at Semi. Then he ducked down and kissed him again, cherishing the warmth of Semi’s face between his palms and the gentle hesitance of Semi’s lips against his own. 

This time when they broke away Semi tucked his burning face against Tendou’s shoulder. Tendou chuckled and wrapped his arms around him, resting his cheek on Semi’s head.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’d never laugh at you, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou. He inhaled the scent of Semi’s citrus shampoo. “I’m just happy.”

“Me too,” mumbled Semi, the words muffled by Tendou’s shoulder. 

They stood like that longer than they should have, until Semi straightened and said, “We’d better get to the bus before coach sends Tsutomu to look for us.”

Tendou grinned. “Actually, let’s stay longer, then. I bet he’d pass out if he walked in on us kissing. Wanna bet?”

Semi’s cheeks flared pink again, but he shook his head. “Let’s go.”

Tendou heaved a dramatic sigh. “If you insist. Only if you’ll sit next to me on the bus, though.”

“Of course I will,” said Semi. They’d sat next to each other that morning, too, but now it was different. Semi turned away to grab his bag and tossed it over his shoulder.

Tendou mimicked him, and had only taken a single step toward the door when Semi’s fingers brushed against his, carefully weaving their way between Tendou’s.

Tendou blinked over at him, but Semi was pointedly looking in the other direction. The tips of his ears were bright red.

Tendou grinned, squeezed Semi’s fingers, and wondered what he could have possibly done in his life to be so lucky.

Semi wasn’t perfect. Tendou used to think he was, but now that he’d gotten to know him better, he’d learned his flaws. Semi wasn’t perfect, but Tendou wasn’t, either. Both of them were battered and damaged and a little broken. It was what drew them to each other. It was what made them beautiful. 

Semi Eita wasn’t perfect, but he was more than perfect for Tendou.


End file.
